Accuse me thus: that I have scanted all Against my Love shall be, as I am now Against that time, if ever that time come Ah! wherefore with infection should he live Alack, what poverty my Muse brings forth Alas, 'tis true I have gone here and there Art thou, god, to shepherd turn'd
As a decrepit father takes delight As an unperfect actor on the stage
As fast as thou shalt wane, so fast thou growest
Beauty is but a vain and doubtful good. Being your slave, what should I do but tend Beshrew that heart that makes my heart to groan Betwixt mine eye and heart a league is took Be wise as thou art cruel; do not press Blow, blow, thou winter wind. But be contented: when that fell arrest But do thy worst to steal thyself away. But wherefore do not you a mightier way.
Canst thou, O cruel! say I love thee not
Come away, come away, Death
Come o'er the bourn, Bessy, to me. Come, thou Monarch of the vine.
Come unto these yellow sands.
Crabbéd Age and Youth cannot live together.
Devouring Time, blunt thou the lion's paws Did not the heavenly rhetoric of thine eye Do nothing but eat, and make good cheer.
Fair is my Love, but not so fair as fickle Farewell! thou art too dear for my possessing Fathers that wear rags
Fear no more the heat o' the sun. Fie on sinful fantasy
For shame! deny that thou bear'st love to any From fairest creatures we desire increase Full many a glorious morning have I seen From off a hill whose concave womb re-worded.
From you have I been absent in the Spring Full fathom five thy father lies
Get you hence, for I must go
Good night, good rest. Ah, neither be my share
Hang there, my verse, in witness of my love. Hark, hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings. Honour, riches, marriage-blessing How can I then return in happy plight. How can my muse want subject to invent. How careful was I, when I took my way. How heavy do I journey on the way How like a winter hath my absence been How oft, when thou, my music, music play'st How should I your true-Love knɔw.
How sweet and lovely dost thou make the shame
I grant thou wert not married to my Muse.
I never saw that you did painting need
If love make me forsworn, how shall I swear to love
If my dear love were but the child of state
If She be made of white and red.
If the dull substance of my flesh were thought
If there be nothing new, but that which is If thou survive my well-contented day. If thy soul check thee that I come so near Immortal gods, I crave no pelf
In faith, I do not love thee with mine eyes In loving thee thou know'st I am forsworn In the old age black was not counted fair Is it for fear to wet a widow's eye
Is it thy will thy image should keep open. It was a Lover and his Lass
Lawn as white as driven snow
Let me confess that we two must be twain Let me not to the marriage of true minds Let not my love be call'd idolatry
Let those who are in favour with their stars Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore Like as, to make our appetites more keen Lo! as a careful housewife runs to catch Lo! in the orient when the gracious light,
Look in thy glass, and tell the face thou viewest Lord, how mine eyes throw gazes to the east.
Lord of my love, to whom in vassalage Love is my sin and thy dear virtue hate
Love, Love, nothing but Love, still more.
Mine eye and heart are at a mortal war
Mine eye hath play'd the painter, and hath stell'd.
Music to hear, why hear'st thou music sadly. My glass shall not persuade me I am old
My love is as a fever, longing still
My love is strengthen'd, though more weak in seeming My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun My tongue-tied Muse in manners holds her still.
No longer mourn for me when I am dead. No more be grieved at that which thou hast done Not from the stars do I my judgment pluck No, Time, thou shalt not boast that I do change Not marble, nor the gilded monuments. Not mine own fears, nor the prophetic soul Now the hungry lion roars
O, call not me to justify the wrong
O, for my sake do you with fortune chide
O, from what power hast thou this powerful might O, how I faint when I of you do write.
O, how much more doth beauty beauteous seem how thy worth with manners may I sing
O, lest the world should task you to recite
O me, what hath Love put in
O Mistress mine, where are you roaming On a day-alack the day
O, never say that I was false of heart Or I shall live your epitaph to make. Orpheus with his lute made trees.
Or whether doth my mind, being crown'd with you
O, that you were yourself! but, Love, you are
O thou, my lovely boy, who in thy power.
O truant Muse, what shall be thy amends.
Poor soul, the centre of my sinful earth
Say that thou didst forsake me for some fault Shall I compare thee to a summer's day
Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more
mine eye is in you,
Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea Since I left Sin of self-love possesseth all mine eye Sleepest or wakest thou, jolly shepherd So am I as the rich, whose blessed key So are you to my thoughts as food to life So is it not with me as with that Muse Some glory in their birth, some in their skill Some say thy fault is youth, some wantonness So oft have I invoked thee for my Muse So, now I have confess'd that he is thine So shall I live, supposing thou art true.
So sweet a kiss the golden sun gives not Study me how to please the eye indeed
Sweet Flower, with flowers thy bridal bed I strew Sweet Love, renew thy force; be it not said.
Sweet Mistress,-what your name is else, I know not Sweet Rose, fair Flower, untimely pluck'd, soon vaded
Take all my loves, my Love, yea, take them all Take, O, take these lips away
Tell me where is Fancy bred
That god forbid that made me first your slave That thou art blamed shall not be thy defect. That thou hast her, it is not all my grief That time of year thou mayst in me behold That you were once unkind befriends me now The expense of spirit in a waste of shame. The forward violet thus did I chide. The master, the swabber, the boatswain and I The other two, slight air and purging fire. Then hate me when thou wilt; if ever, now Then is there mirth in Heaven.
Then let not winter's ragged hand deface They bore him barefaced on the bier
They that have power to hurt and will do none. Thine eyes I love, and they, as pitying me Those hours, that with gentle work did frame Those lines that I before have writ do lie Those lips that Love's own hand did make
Those parts of thee that the world's eye doth view Those petty wrongs that liberty commits Thou art as tyranncus, so as thou art
Thou blind fool, Love, what dost thou to mine eyes Thus can my love excuse the slow offence.
Thus is his cheek the map of days outworn
Thy bosom is endear'd with all hearts
Thy gift, thy tables, are within my brain.
Thy glass will show thee how thy beauties wear Tired with all these, for restful death I 'Tis better to be vile than vile esteem'd To me, fair friend, you never can behold Two loves have I of comfort and despair
Under the greenwood tree
Unthrifty loveliness, why dost thou spend.
Was it the proud full sail of his great verse Was this fair face the cause, quoth she. Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed. Wedding is great Juno's crown
Were't aught to me I bore the canopy.
What is your substance? whereof are you made
What potions have I drunk of Siren tears. What shall he have that kill'd the deer. What's in the brain that ink may character When daffodils begin to peer
When daisies pied and violets blue
When forty winters shall besiege thy brow When I consider every thing that
When I do count the clock that tells the time When I have seen by Time's fell hand defaced. When icicles hang by the wall.
When, in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes When in the chronicle of wasted time
When most I wink, then do mine eyes best see When my Love swears that she is made of truth When that I was and a little tiny boy When to the sessions of sweet silent thought. When thou shalt be disposed to set me light Where art thou, Muse, that thou forget'st so long Where the bee sucks, there suck I Whilst I alone did call upon thy aid. Whoever hath her wish, thou hast thy Will' Whose is it that says most? which can say more. Why is my verse so barren of new pride Who is Silvia? what is She.
Who will believe my verse in time to come Why didst thou promise such a beauteous day Why, let the stricken deer go weep
You spotted snakes with double tongue Your love and pity doth the impression fill
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